


the one who loves you from time to time

by aizensosuke



Series: the dreamers and the lovers [5]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Biting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Oral Sex, Rutting, Scenting, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 15:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17870027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aizensosuke/pseuds/aizensosuke
Summary: everyone is wondering why szayel has not surfaced in days. aaroniero ends up being the one forced to check on him.





	the one who loves you from time to time

There is no warning when Aaroniero stumbles into Szayel’s room of what he is to find.

No one has seen the healer in two days and while there had been debate about whether it was worth bothering him or not, no one had been brave enough to go through it. Yylfordt typically gave his brother the widest berth he could given the fact the two of them hardly ever got along, and though Nnoitra seemed to care for him in some measure, he always left Szayel alone if Szayel gave him the impression he wanted to be on his own.

Not surfacing for two entire days and nights said more than words ever could.

So they drew straws, and Aaroniero loses because of course he does. Whatever relationship he and Szayel had prior to coming to this place had evaporated as soon as it was possible for them to be distant with one another. Their friendship had always been a temperamental one at best for reasons Aaroniero still does not understand, nights where Szayel would all but rip his head off of his neck for brushing up against him or trying to be affectionate with him. Alphas could be prickly toward each other, but  _ Christ. _

Of course he draws the shortest straw. He thinks the others might have set it up that way, but he has no proof and would rather get this over with as quickly as possible.

Getting injured as a member of their pack was so pitifully common, but he considered it a personal best to have gone nearly six months without having to come to Szayel for any kind of healing. Most of his scrapes and bruises he would just let heal naturally, and the one serious bullet graze  _ hurt _ but he dealt with it, bandaged it, and moved on with his life.

Going to Szayel was not an option, not for him. It would never again be for him.

He almost punches the door in an effort to get Szayel’s attention on the other side. “Szayel, open up the fucking door and tell me what the hell you’ve been doing that means you have to lock yourself up for  _ two fucking days _ , scaring everyone who knows you.”

Even Aizen expressed concern when he learned Szayel had been spotted by no one, that his scent was weak enough in his usual places outside of the healing rooms that meant he really had sequestered himself away. Without food. Without bathing. Aaroniero rolls his eyes; Szayel can be dramatic but this is even a bit much for him.

When he hears no movement on the other side of the door within sixty seconds, he kicks the door instead. “Szayel! Don’t make me go get Edrad to break the fucking door down.”

He doesn’t want to break the door down. Even with as strained and nonexistent as their friendship is these days, he wants to afford Szayel his privacy, but there is a limit. No one can just disappear for two entire days and have no one else notice. What if something had happened to him? What if he was sick and just refusing to let anyone help him?

That was Szayel, actually. He was proud to a fault. Aaroniero hated that about him.

“Would you just!” He punches the door again, hard enough to scrape his knuckles. “Just come to the fucking door and talk to me through it if you don’t want me to open it.”

Finally, he hears shuffling on the other side of the door and heaves a sigh, leaning his back against the wall while he waits to hear the sound of Szayel’s voice through the wood. Why does it have to be him? Why does it always have to be him? It just serves to remind him of how Szayel had clung to him upon their initial meeting, how he had pushed Aaroniero away, dragged him back in and then kicked him away as hard as he could. Reminds him of the fact that when they had cleared out this space, he had to help Szayel back inside because he and Yylfordt had been fighting viciously the entire time they were outside together.

He’s surprised to see the doorknob move, surprised to hear it turn before the door swings open and he staggers, blasted abruptly in the face by an alpha’s rut pheromones.

“Happy?” Szayel’s voice is rough from disuse— Or maybe something else that Aaroniero has no desire to think about right now. “Was I supposed to come find one of you to tell you? I’m not beholden to any of you, pack or no pack.”

“That’s not fair. You totally could have found one of us and let us know it was coming.” In fact, he usually did. He usually told at least one person before bedding down.

He pushes himself off of the wall so he can look at Szayel properly and winces because he looks like utter hell, his face damp with sweat, his hair a mess, his skin flushed and hot. Rut can hit an alpha just as hard as heat can hit an omega, but Szayel had worse ruts than any alpha Aaroniero had ever known. It never seemed to become easier for him, but then, he tended to spend all of them alone. He’d never taken an omega of his own, and he refused all offers of rut partners no matter which omega in their pack offered.

And there had been offers, because Szayel is pretty for an alpha.

“Have you been eating?” Aaroniero asks, waiting for the inevitable moment when he becomes cagey and needs to bolt from the space. “Did you at least get food?”

“I have food. I’m fine. I’m just… It sucks.” Szayel scrubs a hand over his face, and Aaroniero can see the fine tremor in his fingers, the cords in his forearm standing out.

Was he just as affected by Aaroniero’s scent? It was possible. Alphas by and large could live together just fine, but there were biological issues when it came to rut because most alphas tended to start throwing off  _ stay the fuck away from me _ signals, both for the purposes of protection and for the purposes of protecting their partner. An alpha in rut could hardly fight, after all. But Szayel’s scent had never been quite so strong, or quite as sharp. Even now, two days into his rut, he smells… Overwhelming, but not in a negative way.

Aaroniero cocks his head, inhales slowly and blinks a handful of times. “Fuck.”

“What?” Szayel narrows his eyes at him, that beautiful golden color hazy beneath his long pink lashes. “I can’t do anything about it. You’re just going to have to deal.”

“Have you always smelled like this when you’re in rut?” Aaroniero risks taking a step forward, nose twitching, and he’s never had to  _ try _ to scent an alpha in rut.

Most of their pack had incredibly  _ go fuck yourself _ scents where rut was concerned. The double whammy of Halibel and Nelliel— whose ruts had synced up, God help them all— could make most of the alphas in their pack physically ill if they were around them too much. Apacci’s scent burned in the nose and stuck there for hours after no matter how much one might drag their nose through the dirt in order to get it out. Yammy’s was so intense that it tended to make others avoid the entire damned hallway if Gin forgot to scent lock it to ensure that no one else had to catch the tail-end of it.

Tousen was the worst. By far. Aaroniero knows nothing about the science of scents other than the basics everyone knows, but he swears that it must be linked to just how important Aizen is to Tousen, that his scent somehow becomes almost  _ frightening. _

Yylfordt’s is intense, too, it burns. Aaroniero expects Szayel’s scent to be much of the same because certain familial traits can transfer, not exact scents sometimes but something about the chemical makeup that can cause similar reactions. Luppi and Cirucci, for instance, are siblings, and though both of them have different scents as alphas, Aaroniero feels the exact same kind of unsettled around either of them in rut.

There is nothing sharp about Szayel’s scent. Nothing at all to upset him, make his hackles rise. Has he ever smelled Szayel in rut before? Not that he can remember.

“Of course I’ve always smelled this way. Why?” Szayel leans away from him, his expression uncertain, his lips pressing together into a thin line when Aaroniero steps closer to him.

“You smell good.” He knows how surprised he sounds but can’t resist, a hand already reaching out to pull Szayel close enough so he can properly scent him at his neck. He wants to bury his face in against that soft pale skin and see if Szayel really smells as good as—

Immediately, his hand is smacked away. “Don’t. Don’t say such awful, awful lies.”

_ Lies? _ “What are you talking about? I’ve never smelled an alpha who smells like you when they’re in rut. Just let me scent you. You’ve never been shy about your damned scent.”

Szayel swallows so hard that his Adam’s apple bobs, and Aaroniero can hear his throat click. “I don’t think you need to. You can tell from a distance, can’t you?”

“If you’re telling me that it would make you uncomfortable for me to scent you, then I won’t. But if you’re just shy, I’m pushing your buttons.” Aaroniero is smart enough not to cross the threshold into Szayel’s den, certain he would probably get his eyes clawed out for such a disrespectful action. “I just want to see and then I’ll leave you alone.”

He watches Szayel’s eyes flick toward the ceiling before he sighs. “Fine. But you owe me. The next time I need to stock up on supplies, you’re going into town to get them for me.”

“Absolutely.” And this time, when Aaroniero stretches a hand toward him, Szayel lets him.

Because Szayel is in rut, Aaroniero is careful. Alphas in rut are meant to be defensive and prickly toward those who invade their personal space other than their chosen partners, so he tries to remain as gentle as possible as he curls a hand around the back of Szayel’s neck and urges him closer to the doorway. How can he be wearing clothes? He has a sweatshirt on, for the love of God— Which is probably why his skin is so flushed and hot. Fully dressed with his body temperature out of control, what could he be thinking?

Aaroniero urges him just to the edge of the doorway and then steps up to him, moving slowly and carefully. He watches Szayel’s hands rise, press to the doorframe on either side of him, gripping it tightly enough his fingers are trembling. What’s wrong with him?

“Are you okay?” Aaroniero thumbs the nape of his neck and Szayel shivers all over, his eyes fluttering shut. “You need a rut partner, Szayel, if you’re this sensitive to touch—”

“I’m fine.” Szayel shakes his head, but he doesn’t open his eyes. “Scent me.  _ Please. _ ”

_ You’re asking me? _ But the word breaks on a whine and Aaroniero moves before his brain has time to register what he’s doing, pressing his nose into Szayel’s scent gland, not far from his pulse. The punch of his scent hits Aaroniero right in the gut and should be enough to stagger him, perhaps even make him outwardly ill. Instead, it feels like being netted and dragged in closer to him, tangling in him. Szayel’s scent is as sharp as any alpha’s but the physiological response never comes; if anything, Aaroniero finds himself pressing in closer to him, hand wandering up to grip Szayel’s waist and yank him closer.

_ You’re too warm, _ he thinks, hand sliding under the bottom of his shirt. A low hiss leaves his lips when he feels how warm Szayel’s skin is, hot sweaty. And then he realizes that not only is he copping a feel but Szayel is letting him, gasping softly, leaning into his touch.

An alpha, leaning into the touch of another alpha, putting off  _ waves _ of arousal.

“Is this why you fucked off on me?” he asks, whispering the words against the side of Szayel’s throat, tasting the salt of sweat on his skin, rubbing off on Aaroniero’s lips. “You didn’t want me to know you were attracted to me? Szayel, I don’t—”

“It’s not that simple and you know it.” Szayel leans away from him, whining softly in the back of his throat like the loss is already killing him. “I’ve  _ never _ been attracted to a single omega in my life. I thought I was broken. I didn’t want to admit… That I… That alphas…”

_ Oh. _ Aaroniero takes a slow, deep breath and tries to ignore how hard his cock is just from the scent of Szayel’s rut.  _ How the hell is it like that, anyway? _ “You want me to come in? Shut the door? I don’t think having me in here’s gonna help but you wanna talk?”

Szayel squeezes his eyes shut, twists his head away. “I… Yes, please, I just… I’m so—”

Aaroniero shuts the door so hard it slams. “Then talk to me. What’s going on?”

He watches Szayel drops down onto his futon, head dropping into his hands, and thinks that he’s never smelled Szayel’s scent like this before. He’s all medicinal herbs, sharp and refreshing so that most of the omegas in their pack are comfortable around him even if they are mated, even if he happens to be close to his rut cycle. When Aaroniero thought about him going into rut— and he  _ did,  _ fucking  _ sue _ him— he imagined it would be cloying, would make him choke and sneeze and need fresh air as soon as possible.

Szayel’s scent is nothing like that. Of course, an alpha like him would have a unique scent.

Aaroniero kneels down in front of him on the floor, tugging Szayel’s fingers from his own hair, sliding his glasses off of his face. “You’re going to burn up if you stay dressed.”

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing I do is enough to make it stop.” Szayel sounds desperate, voice choked in the back of his throat. “It’s always been like this. I thought… Nnoitra offered once, when we first met, but I. I had to just turn him down and tell him I was fine. I’ve never found an omega attractive before. Not even in rut.”

Humming softly, Aaroniero tips his chin up so that those blown golden eyes are on him. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting an alpha. Hal and Nel were together before Grimmjow ever joined the pack, and no one even looked twice at the two of them.”

“But they have an omega, don’t they?” Szayel demands, and Aaroniero frowns at him. “I don’t… I’ve never. I just… When I got into rut, I want. I just want.”

He keeps stopping himself and Aaroniero can smell the charred edge to his scent now, crowding in closer to him, wrapping Szayel in his own scent. Distant ocean air dragging over the beach; Aaroniero’s former mate had told him as much when they traveled there together, but there is no need to think about that right now. What is done is done and he has a shaking, desperate alpha cringing away from his own desires right in front of him. Someone who used to be his friend before he bullied himself into isolation.

_ Was that why you picked Nnoitra as your friend? _ Aaroniero wonders, cupping Szayel’s cheek, thumbing along the line of his cheekbone and reveling in the way Szayel whines for him.  _ No one would question you bending to an omega so demanding. _

“When you go into rut,” Aaroniero says softly, “you want an alpha to hold you down and take you like an omega. Is that what you’re trying to say to me?”

Szayel squeezes his eyes shut, hands curling into fists in the material of his sweatshirt. “I don’t want to be an omega,” he says, and Aaroniero nods. He never said that, anyway. “I’m happy being an alpha, I just… I… When Nnoitra and Tesla, when they were—”

“Nnoitra was in heat and Tesla responded.” Aaroniero brushes his thumb over Szayel’s lip, shuddering when Szayel whines for him again. He’s touch-starved, almost trembling. “I heard it was difficult on you. That you had to chase them out of your rooms.”

“It affected me. But not Nnoitra. Not. It was Tesla’s scent that I noticed.” Szayel drops his head, as if defeated; Aaroniero’s hand slides up into his hair, stroking the soft strands gently. “I was… I wanted that. For an alpha to look after me like that, to hold me down and just… But that doesn’t happen. Alphas are supposed to do that.”

_ No wonder you pushed me away. _ “Szayel, if you want me to stay here while you’re in rut, I will. If you want me… If you want me to hold you down and fuck you through it, then just ask. I— I’d rather you not be in here alone and suffering like this.”

“I don’t want pity.” Szayel  _ tries _ to snap, and Aaroniero can tell. The vitriol is just not quite there. “I don’t want you to fuck me just because you feel bad for me.”

Aaroniero scoffs at him, slips his hands around to the back of Szayel’s head. He twists his fingers in the hair there,  _ pulls _ and watches the starch drop from Szayel’s body almost instantly. “It’s not pity. Get your head out of your ass. I  _ want _ to fuck you. It’s not my fault you shoved me away and kept me at a distance. You need a partner. Let me do it.”

“So you can hold it over me?” Szayel demands, but his voice is feeble, soft. He  _ wants _ it.

“I’d never do that to you.” Aaroniero shoves Szayel’s knees apart so he can kneel between them, tucking his face in against Szayel’s throat once more. “You smell incredible. You need a partner. It’s killing me to sit here and watch you suffer like this. You trusted me with your secret, so trust me to give you what you need to get through this.”

Szayel inhales sharply and Aaroniero presses his lips against Szayel’s scent gland. “Please.”

“Is that a yes?” Aaroniero asks, and his cock  _ throbs _ when Szayel shifts closer to him.

“It’s a yes.” Slender fingers grip his shoulders in a vice grip, yanking him closer. “Please fuck me. Please, I… Please hold me down and take what you want from me.”

Aaroniero shakes his head, leaning back to take Szayel’s face in both hands, not missing how Szayel presses in closer to him, the way his eyelids flutter. “No. I won’t take anything from you. I’m going to give, Szayel. I’ll give you everything you need.”

Before Szayel can no doubt say something else fucked-up that’s just going to upset him, Aaroniero leans in closer to him and kisses him. His lips are soft and warm and they yield so easily beneath his own, but he knows how inexperienced Szayel is when it comes right down to it. Still, he doesn’t so much as tense when Aaroniero presses him back onto the futon, sliding up on top of him, hands slipping under his sweatshirt to peel it away from his skin. He’s so hot and flushed it should be criminal he’s been suffering alone like this.

_ Not anymore, _ Aaroniero thinks.  _ I’ll show him a good time so he has no reason to suffer. _

He’s seen Szayel naked before but it’s different like this, fingers tracing down his side, feeling the stutter of his breath, the beat of his heart, the warmth of his skin. Alphas in rut rarely run as hot as an omega but Szayel has been pushing himself too much and it shows. Aaroniero wraps his hand around Szayel’s waist, leans down to kiss him again. He needs to cool him down, fuck him through this rut so he’ll be comfortable.

His lips are quivering and his tongue is uncertain but Aaroniero easily mows him over, gripping his waist tightly, keeping him pinned down as he licks inside of Szayel’s mouth, swallowing the soft whimpers and whines that are muffled in their kisses. He has to tempt Szayel’s tongue to curl up against his own, sucks it into his own mouth and shudders when Szayel moans, hips bucking up against his own. He’s hard, too, through the layers of fabric.

Aaroniero kisses a wet path down to Szayel’s throat, dragging his teeth over his scent gland just to hear Szayel moan for him again. “I want you naked for me. Take everything off. You’re going to burn to death if you stay dressed.”

“Yes, alpha.” The reply is immediate and hits him like a sledgehammer, yanking a shuddering growl of pleasure from his throat that makes Szayel whine.

He’s  _ naturally _ this submissive? Aaroniero feels dizzy but he yanks himself away so he can watch Szayel undress, eyeing the long and slender lines of his body. He’s taken care of himself, of course, has the same broad shoulders as his brother, a defined chest and noticeable abs, but there’s something soft around the edges about him, too. Something in his eyes when he peers up at Aaroniero through them, as if asking him outright if he’s pleased him. How the fuck could he have gone so long without noticing this?

“You’re beautiful.” It’s not a lie, and the way Szayel keens up at him before falling back on the futon says it all. “You want me to touch you? Mark you up all over your pretty body?”

Szayel licks his lips and nods, and he’s panting softly, restless on the futon. “Please do.”

Aaroniero kisses him again instead, takes his time exploring Szayel’s mouth while his fingers trace a slow path down Szayel’s side once more, fingers gripping the bare curve of his hip, digging into the meat of his ass. He’s  _ perfect, _ supple and strong and the way he moans openly into Aaroniero’s mouth says it all coupled with the way his hips cant up. Aaroniero can feel the hard, hot length of his cock through his own pants and God, he wants to blow Szayel. Have him trembling and begging beneath him.

Not yet, though. Not just yet. He has an entire body to explore and so little experience.

“How many partners have you had?” Aaroniero asks, dragging his teeth over Szayel’s lower lip, kissing down to his jaw. “How many alphas have you gotten to bed you?”

“Just two. I don’t think either of them particularly enjoyed it as much as I did.” Szayel squirms and Aaroniero quiets him, petting down his side, nuzzling into his throat.

“I’m enjoying it.” He presses his hips down, rutting his cock against Szayel’s stomach to hear the alpha beneath him gasp. “I’m going to enjoy every part of you.”

He takes his time kissing down Szayel’s chest, pressing an arm down against his shoulders to keep him in place while he licks and sucks at his nipples, watching the soft pale pink darken rosy under his lips and tongue. Szayel’s fingers bite into his forearm, not trying to pry him away but just clinging to him, anchoring himself to Aaroniero as he gasps and whines and squirms beneath him. One particularly hard scrape of teeth draws a soft muted cry from his throat and Aaroniero vows to get him to do it again.

When he drags his tongue down the center of Szayel’s abs, he chuckles, listening to Szayel whimper down at him. “You not a fan of being teased? You’re so patient, though.”

“Alpha, I want you.” Szayel yelps when Aaroniero licks up the side of his cock, hips bucking. He hadn’t been expecting it so suddenly. Aaroniero was banking on that. “Please, I’m hot—”

“I know, baby. I wouldn’t push you if I didn’t think you could take it. Besides.” Aaroniero wraps a hand around his cock, strokes it from base to tip just to hear the choked noise Szayel makes for him. “Who said I was going to tease you the whole time?”

Like all alphas, Szayel is well-endowed. Aaroniero likes a challenge. He keeps a firm hold on Szayel’s cock, laps along the sides and up the underside, tonguing the vein there until Szayel’s hips buck up toward his face.  _ Needy, _ he thinks, dragging the flat of his tongue over the head, teasing the slit until he can taste the salt of pre-come. _ But you’re burning up. I’m not going to tease you when you need it so much. _

He folds his lips over his teeth and swallows Szayel half down in one go, careful to breathe through his nose while he curls his tongue around Szayel’s shaft. Now Szayel is quiet except for a handful of stuttered little gasps, eyes squeezed shut, head tilted back so Aaroniero can see the long, bared line of his throat.  _ Submission, _ he thinks.  _ You trust me. _

It would be wrong to do anything but give Szayel what he deserves for this.

He swears he can time Szayel’s pulse, throbbing through his cock. He’s so hard, so desperate, probably hasn’t even touched himself to relieve the tension since it wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. Had the former alphas who bedded him ever done this for him? Aaroniero wonders. For now, though, he just closes his eyes so he can focus, lapping along Szayel’s shaft as he bobs his head slowly, working on taking him deeper. He’s long enough to make it a challenge, but Aaroniero has some considerable skill.

When his nose nudges against soft, rose-colored pubic hair, Szayel keens softly.

Aaroniero swallows and draws forth that soft, breathy cry again.  _ There you are. _

“Please alpha,” Szayel whimpers, and Aaroniero glances up at him, blinking at him from around his cock until Szayel shifts his thighs wider apart. “I… I just,  _ please _ …”

Though he doesn’t want to, Aaroniero pulls up off of his cock, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth. “You gotta be patient. Let me suck your dick and while you’re recovering from that, I’ll open you up. Trust me to take care of you and your body.”

“Okay.” Szayel swallows hard, lets his head fall back. “Please take good care of me.”

“I will.” It’s easier, at least, to swallow him back down the second time around.

There is a rewarding aspect to sucking another alpha off, to feel the hefty weight of their cock on his tongue. Szayel is no different in this regard and Aaroniero stretches a hand down, adjusts himself in his jeans before he starts moving his head in a meaningful way, slow wet bobs that make obscenely loud slurping noises. He’s never been anything but a messy eater after all and the way Szayel gasps and chokes is worth it. Even when Szayel’s hips buck up, it doesn’t choke him. He has plenty of practice in this area.

And he wants to make sure it’s as good as it can possibly be for Szayel.

He keeps his movements fluid and slow, all sensation with nothing overwhelming. Going slow lets him swallow more too, his mouth and throat tightening around Szayel’s cock in a vice that makes him whimper and shift restlessly on the futon. The sharp scent of his arousal grows ever more noticeable; Aaroniero considers this a definite success.

The head of his cock is particularly sensitive. When Aaroniero pulls back to tease it, lapping at the clit there with the flat of his tongue, Szayel has to shove his fist between his teeth to cut off a wailing cry. It’s a beautiful sound but Aaroniero eases up on him, soothing the inflamed flesh with his lips and tongue before he takes him back down. The way Szayel stretches his throat open is hypnotic, nudging him toward his own limits.

Does he have any idea how enthralling he looks like this? How could he ever?

Aaroniero slips a hand between his thighs, cupping his balls and massaging them gently. They’re swollen, too, it probably hurts just a little with how much Szayel has been denying himself, how he’s ignored his body’s needs. So he takes his time, then slips his fingers lower, pressing into his perineum, a massaging motion that makes Szayel shriek.

When he’s close to coming, Aaroniero can tell. He’s smart enough to pull back on his shaft, fingers wrapping tight around where his knot will swell, massaging the flesh there and drinking in the way Szayel moans for him. The flesh blooms under his fingers and he eases his grip only minutely so that Szayel has that sweet pressure to push him over the edge.

Alphas always come a lot. Aaroniero is prepared, throat working rapidly to swallow. It occurs to him Szayel came soundlessly and that makes him impossibly fucking hard.

When the flow of semen has stopped, he lets Szayel’s cock slip from his lips, kisses down the shaft so he can mouth at his knot. “Good? I wanted to take the edge off for you.”

“Sensitive,” Szayel rasps down at him; Aaroniero makes direct eye contact with those hazy golden eyes and sucks at the flesh of his knot, lapping over his with his tongue. “Oh…”

“I want to put you on your knees so I can eat you out now,” he says, and Szayel makes a weak noise in the back of his throat. “Eat out your pretty ass, stretch you open for me. Then hold you down and fuck you. Do you want me to knot you, too?”

“Yes!” The response is so immediate it shocks him. How long has Szayel gone without?

Aaroniero chuckles softly, sucks a pink mark onto the inside of his thigh. “You’re so good for me, so pretty, so obedient. Get on your knees so I can look at you.”

He admires that Szayel can drag himself up enough to turn over for him, his knees quivering as he presses them down into the futon, spreading his thighs just a touch. Aaroniero hums softly in approval, copping a feel, squeezing Szayel’s thigh, mostly muscle but with just enough softness to make him want to bite. So he does, sinking his teeth into Szayel’s inner thigh, leaving a tender mark for him to feel tomorrow.

“You’ve got such a nice ass,” he says, lapping over the faint mark he’s left, following the line of Szayel’s thigh up to here it meets the curve of his ass. And he does have a nice ass, soft and plush, tempting. Aaroniero wants to bury his face in there. “Can I touch you?”

“Please do, alpha.” Szayel arches his back, offering his ass boldly.

Denying him would be cruel. Aaroniero shifts up onto the futon further, braced on one arm, the other hooking around Szayel’s thighs to keep him still while he gives into the urge to bury his face between Szayel’s cheeks, inhaling the scent of his arousal, the warmth of his skin. He can feel Szayel shivering and laps over his skin, nipping at his cheeks before he swipes his tongue along the cleft between them. Every part of Szayel’s body has the tang of sweat from how far he pushed himself but Aaroniero laps it away, determined to taste his skin beneath, hauling him closer with the arm around his thighs.

“Such a pretty alpha.” He sounds drunk and maybe he is, drunk on Szayel’s scent and pheromones. “You gonna let me pin you down? I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

“Please.” Szayel squirms beneath him, rocking back against his face desperately.

He can’t use his hands, occupied as they are, so he lets himself make a mess of his face as he licks deeper, tongue finding the tight pink pucker of Szayel’s entrance and teasing it mercilessly. Instead of just opening him up, he licks around him and over him, using the flat of his tongue so there’s never quite enough pressure to slip inside of him. He can feel the rim of muscle there flutter against his tongue and flattens his mouth against it to suck, delighting in the way Szayel cries out for him. What a beautiful sound.

So he rewards Szayel and slicks his tongue inside of him, thrusting it in deep.

The first thing he notices is how tight Szayel is, how hot, how he’s going to have to be careful with him or it’s going to be so careful to hurt him. Aaroniero tries to make it good for him, though, licks up and inside of him, tongue nudging against his inner walls as he presses his face as tight to Szayel’s ass he can. He shifts the arm around Szayel’s thighs so he can rub his thumb along the spit dripping over his skin, massaging his perineum again, stimulating his prostate since he can’t quite reach it with his tongue.

Szayel keens and spreads his legs wider for him, the submission and want and need all bleeding together into a heady mix that is sure to drive Aaroniero crazy.

It occurs to him, in the very back of his mind, that his rut has never been far from Szayel’s, and that sympathy ruts are rare but they happen. That Szayel is putting off enough pheromones for three people and Aaroniero is in the middle of them.

_ Oh well, _ he thinks, pressing his thumb harder against Szayel’s skin.

He fucks Szayel open with his tongue until he knows he needs more than just this and only then does he drag his mouth away. “Do you have lube? I’m gonna need it.”

Szayel half-drags himself over to the nightstand, all but ripping the top drawer out entirely before handing Aaroniero a bottle. A large one, at that, which is good, because he definitely needs as much as he can get. He rewards Szayel, catching him by the wrist, kissing the scent gland there before turning back to his ass. The cap pops open with a satisfying sound and Aaroniero generously slicks his fingers, watching Szayel tremble for him, patiently waiting for him. He’s astoundingly good at taking orders.

“You’re such a good boy for me.” Aaroniero traces wet fingers along his balls, smoothing over his perineum and following that to his hole, stroking the lube over it until it’s slick and shiny. “I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“Please, alpha,” Szayel whispers, throaty and raspy, almost inaudible.

He’s so tight that even one finger feels like too much to start with but Aaroniero kisses up the back of his thigh to keep him soothed and quiet, easing his finger inside, stroking along his walls to make them relax against him. Szayel is hotter inside than he felt around his tongue and he can only imagine how it’s going to feel around his cock, but for now he has to make sure Szayel stays relaxed for him. Not that it takes much. He seems perfectly calm and quiet now, taking slow breaths so that Aaroniero’s finger slips deeper more easily.

“So good.” He kisses Szayel’s thigh again, laps at the mark he left. It’s going to bruise; he sucks the flesh darker. “I’m going to put another in. Do you think you can handle it?”

“Yes.” Szayel’s hand stretches toward him and he shifts to take it, lacing their fingers together, holding onto him as he presses a second finger inside. “Aaroniero…”

Hearing his name on Szayel’s lips is better than hearing  _ alpha _ but it’s bad for his health, his heart stuttering in such a way that makes him think he’s probably going to die if Szayel does it again. So be it. He focuses on Szayel, working his two fingers in and out, a slow slide, rubbing along the smooth heat inside of him. When he thinks Szayel is calm enough, he twists his wrist just a little, pressing his fingers down against where he knows Szayel’s prostate is, feeling the texture of it, massaging in small little circles.

The reaction is instant, Szayel’s hips shifting against his hand, soft whimpering feeling the air while Szayel tries to find and match his rhythm. He drops his shoulders down to the futon so he can grope between his legs, touching his own cock, already hard again. Because Aaroniero is throwing off his own pheromones now and Szayel is helpless to do anything but respond, his body demanding him to accommodate for the alpha behind him.

That’s fine. What a shame, having the privilege to make Szayel come for him again.

He opens up well around three fingers, but Aaroniero pushes him to four, the lube sticky and shiny on his skin. Szayel is louder now, softly moaning, thighs spread obscenely wide, his own hand making soft noises where he’s stroking his cock. Aaroniero doesn’t want to stop touching him but he has to so he can lean back, yanking his own shirt off.

“Wanna see.” Szayel shifts so he can crane his head around, an audible whimper leaving his mouth when Aaroniero gets out of his jeans, commando beneath them. “Oh fuck.”

“You still want this?” Aaroniero asks him, wrapping a slick fist around his cock.

In answer, Szayel spreads his thighs even further. “Please fuck me, Aaroniero, I’m—”

“Don’t beg.” Aaroniero leans over him, bites down on his shoulder. “I’ll give it to you.”

He uses a generous amount of lube on his cock, making sure there’s plenty around the base if Szayel is intent on taking his knot. For a moment, he just leans over him, presses his chest against Szayel’s back so he can feel his breathing, scent him like this, feel the warmth rolling off of him in waves. He grinds his cock against Szayel’s ass, shaft sliding along the cleft to hear Szayel whimper for him. When he nuzzles into the nape of his neck, Szayel makes a weak sound up at him, presses closer to him.

“If I bite you here, it’ll force your submission.” And is typically punishment, an alpha’s way for keeping the pack in line. Some alphas, disgusting fucks, use it on their omegas.

“I want you to.” Szayel pushes back against him. “I know what it feels like. Pl-please.”

Aaroniero shivers, flattens his body against Szayel’s. “I don’t want to hurt you. It’s punishment to most people, Szayel, I don’t want you to think I—”

“I want it.” Szayel twists his head around looks up at him. “I know it’s punishment. I know what it feels like. But I’m asking you to submit me. I want you to. I want to submit to you. It… It makes it feel better when you’re inside of me, I just… It does.”

“Okay.” He promised, kisses Szayel softly on the lips, licks the plea off of his tongue and then shoves Szayel’s face in the pillow so he can bite the back of his neck.

They had been out together— not him and Szayel, but him and… And yeah— he ended up in a fight and hadn’t been able to turn off the instinct because he’d been dragged off before he could finish the job. He remembers his mate’s teeth in the back of his neck, cowing him, forcing the intense rush of hormones and adrenaline out of his body until he was pliant and soft, and he hated it. But Szayel shudders and pushes back into his teeth, lets Aaroniero pin him down with just a flex of his body, going limp beneath him. The medicinal herb scent of his only seems to grow lusher, greener, softer. He seems like he’s enjoying it.

With his teeth still in Szayel’s nape, he grips his cock, shifts his hips, and thrusts forward, the head of his cock, slipping past Szayel’s stretched rim. Szayel makes a faint soft noise.

“There you go.” Aaroniero licks the backs in the back of his neck, rolls his hips to sink deeper and now he understands because all the tension has faded, every last vestige of it until his cock sinks in deep, wrapped in hot velvet that feels like it conforms to the shape of him. He can see Szayel’s lashes fluttering, mouth parted, the soft red of his mouth—

And he understands why Szayel asked him to do it, licks over the marks and fucks his way deeper into Szayel’s body. He doesn’t have to stop to let him adjust, not like this, and Szayel makes small noises, little whines and whimpers. Aaroniero gives him a hand to hold.

The attraction of fucking another alpha was that it always felt like a fight, like a competition, no matter who was on top. That didn’t matter. But with Szayel it doesn’t feel like that at all, and it doesn’t feel like fucking a willing and pleading omega either. It’s different, a sharp contrast to both of those. Szayel’s softer for him than any omega has ever been, offering up his trust and his submission, trusting Aaroniero to take him to such a defenseless state and take care of him once he was in it.

He’s only had two other partners. He didn’t trust them like this. He’d said as much.

“Pretty baby,” Aaroniero rasps, taking Szayel’s hand away from his cock so he can touch it himself, stroking slow from base to tip, fucking him at a leisurely pace. He’s tight enough that it feels just this side of perfect. “You gonna come for me again, Szayel?”

“Yes.” Szayel’s eyelashes flutter and he looks like he’s laboring to answer. “I— I’m—”

Aaroniero kisses the sound off of his lips, and he whines softly. “I’ve got you.”

He keeps his hand on Szayel’s cock and holds Szayel’s hand with the other, and he thinks it. It hasn’t felt this intimate since a time he doesn’t want much to think about, but this is different, too. Szayel is unlike anyone else, completely lax beneath him, trusting him, panting softly, letting Aaroniero take anything he wants while Aaroniero just tries to give him what he so desperately wants and needs. Based on the soft little pleased noises Szayel makes beneath him, he thinks he’s doing that. Can feel Szayel’s cock hard and wet in his hand, can feel him rippling around his shaft especially when he brushes over his prostate.

He makes Szayel come before he lets himself, stroking him through another orgasm that draws a soft cry from his lips before he thrusts into him one last time, holding their bodies tightly together, shoving his face between Szayel’s shoulder blades as he waits for his knot to swell. It’s a tighter fit like this, Szayel’s body not naturally made for this, but the little hiccuping noises he makes, nose scrunched up so cutely, makes it worth it. Besides, it feels fucking  _ incredible _ like nothing ever has before.

Aaroniero presses himself tight against Szayel before laying them down on their sides.

“Was that what you wanted?” he asks, scoffing when Szayel makes a soft mewling noise at him. “Should have known you’d be too tired to talk. C’mere and let me hold you.”

Szayel wriggles back against him as much as he can and Aaroniero loops his arms tight around him, nuzzling along the back and side of his neck, listening to the pleased little noises he makes. His skin is cooler now, still warm to the touch but not so warm that he worries, and the afterglow will calm him down further.

He tilts his head back to look at Aaroniero and licks his lips. “I’m… Sorry. For pushing you away. I… Yes. I wanted you. And I thought… You’d think I was a freak.”

“I don’t.” Aaroniero cups his jaw and kisses him again. “I’m never going to think you’re a freak for this. And if you want me to keep helping you through your ruts, I will. Gladly.”

Szayel’s smile is small and shy and he nods, then relaxes back against the pillows. Aaroniero presses his mouth against the bite on the nape of his neck, licking the teeth marks to soothe them. One of these days, he’s going to have to tell Szayel about his former mate, but not right now. He doesn’t want to go into the finer details.

Besides, he has an alpha right here in his arms to take care of. That’s more important.

Szayel will  _ always _ be more important than his past.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been waiting to write this for AGES


End file.
